That life gave me love: Rylee.
“I’m fighting because like you said, she’s the goddamn alphabet, Becks.” I turn around to face him, hands out to my sides and a shrug of my shoulders. “Those boys are her life, and she’s mine.”
This conversation, this confession, and these feelings, all make me anxious. Uncomfortable. Vulnerable.
Add feelings on top of feelings when I don’t want them to.
My cell phone rings and thank fuck for that because shit’s getting heavy. And the only kind of heavy I like is Ry’s weight on top of me.
“Kelly.”
“I’ve found your father.” I freeze. Mind misfires thoughts. Hand stops midway in the air and then drops.
What the fuck did I do this for? Doubt rears its ugly stepsister of a head to let me know she’s still there. Still waiting for me to fuck all of this up.
I can’t speak. All I can do is clear my throat.
“Confirmation should come within the hour. When it does I’ll shoot you over his address in an email.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I let the phone slip from my hand and land with a thud on my desk. I stare at it for a minute. Deciding. Wondering. Avoiding.
You got what you wanted, Donavan.
What are you going to do about it?
Heading to The House. Zander is meeting with his uncle. Just found out and am speeding to get there in time.
SHANE’S TEXT REPLAYS IN MY head over and over as I search my purse for my car keys before moving to the laundry room that connects to the garage to see if they are hanging on the rack of keys. They’re not. My body vibrates with anguish and my heart lodges into my throat over the need to get to Zander so I can walk him through this.
And to pick apart every one of his uncle’s nuances so I can make the claims I want to make about why he can’t be approved to foster.
I know I’m breaking my promise to Shane about not reacting off the information he feeds me when it comes to Zander, but . . . it’s one of my boys. I need to be there. If it were Shane in distress I’d do the same thing.
“Sammy!” I yell, not sure if he’s in his office off the main floor or outside doing any of the various things he does that continually remain a mystery to me. I’m smart enough to know Colton has conveniently had him staying around the house lately to keep an eye on me. That doesn’t sit well with me. “Sammy. Do you know where my keys are?” I try to keep the panic out of my voice but it’s no use because I need to get to The House ASAP.
“Everything okay?” he asks as he jogs down the hallway toward me, the concern in his tone matching the look on his face. And I realize he thinks I’m in labor, hence the slightly panicked widening of his eyes.
“Yes. I’m looking for my keys.”
“Do you need me to run to the store for you?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“No, thank you. I need to get to The House,” I tell him as I cross my arms over my chest and just stare.
“Sorry. You’re not supposed to be going anywhere. Colton sa—”
“Did he hide my car keys?” I ask, voice becoming shriller with each word. Reality sets in that I’m not being forgetful with pregnancy brain like I thought when I couldn’t find my keys, but Colton actually hid them. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell, throwing my hands up, my misdirected anger aimed at Sammy.
“He wanted to make sure you stayed safe,” he states quietly, knowing not to cross my temper.
I start to walk away from him, mentally trying to figure out how to get there, when I turn back around. “Drive me then.”
Sammy startles at my directive, considering I have never asked him for anything let alone demanded him to do something since Colton and I have been married. “Let me call Colton,” he says as he goes to step away.
“No.” He stops and turns to look at me like I’ve lost it. The funny part is I have and can’t bother to care that I have. “I’m as much your boss as he is. I’ll take the blame, Sammy, but one of my boys needs me.” I know I’m putting him in a horrible position—piss off the husband or face the wrath of the pregnant wife—but at this point, I don’t care. All I can think about is Zander.
“Rylee,” he says, my name a resigned sigh.
“Never mind,” I say as the idea hits me and I start to walk past him to where Colton keeps his stash of extra keys. “I’ll just take Sex then.” By the way he sucks in his breath I know I’ve just delivered the coup de grace by threatening to take Colton’s baby. My husband may be a generous man, but when it comes to his beloved Ferrari, that’s another story.
My mind flickers back to the last time I asked to get behind the wheel. Nice try, sweetheart, but the only place you’re allowed to drive me is out of breath on the hood. I can still see his telltale smirk and the salacious look in his eyes, before I begrudgingly moved away from the door of the driver’s seat.
That was three years ago. I’m smart enough not to come between a man and his car, but I sure as hell know how to use it as leverage to get what I want.
With the weight of Sammy’s presence at my back, I open the middle drawer of the desk and make a show of rifling through it to prove my point.
“I promised Colton I’d make sure you stayed here.”
“I’ll deal with him if you drive me, Sammy. Not taking me is ten times worse for my health and the baby than taking me. Happy wife, happy life,” I say with false enthusiasm. “And if not, voila!” I turn around with the key dangling between my fingers.